The Runaways
by Kira's Heart
Summary: The three siblings are faced with the death of their mother and the problem of haw to deal with it. They have no father and the children feel something ominous is following them.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE:

" If their was ever a happy place, it should still exist and I'll find it. If ever there was a happy ending, it should still exist and I'll find it. I will chase the good and not look towards the bad for that would shurely harm me." I read, looking down towards the notebook paper instead of at the class. A lot of the other children coughed or fiddled, but I wasn't paying any attention to them. I wanted to hear what thought.

" Well Isabella . . . . It was definutely cretive, but I'm not sure I understand the plot of the poem. Do you understand it?" This woman was in her mid forties with short dirty - blonde hair and a round chubby face. She wasn't skinny but she wasn't huge either. I slowly nodded my head in reply.

Some of the kids snickered. A few others whispered, then giggled. When I didn't say anything Mrs. Morrison smiled; as if to say hurry up and explain.

" It means that throughout my life I will try to only go for the good and either ignore or avoid the bad. I will do this in order to form a better life for myself and hopefully the people around me. If I should slip though or chase the bad instead of the good there's a better chance that I'll get hurt instead of not." I concluded. Mrs. Morrison just sstared at me. More of the kids giggled, a few were just outright laughing. Mrs. Morrison looked as if she too wanted to laugh. She was smiling in a way that went along with the kid's teasing.

" You got all of that from that poem?"Mrs. Morrison inquired as if talking to a retarted kid, like I wouldn't understand her words.

" Yes ma'am." I replied. She giggled then with the other kids. Why did I care what she thought at the beggining of all this, anyway? It's because she _used_ to be the only person who didn't make fun of me. Mrs. Morrison had turned into ine of_ them. _They all did sooner or later.

" Take your seat please." She said still giggling a bit. I returned my line of sight to the floor and walked to my seat in the front of the room. The room was a brick cell with only two windows on the far side of the wall and a ceiling fan so that we wouldn't get too hot. Mrs. Morrison's desk sat to the right at the front of the room and the blackboard hung on the left side of the front wall beside her desk. The rest of the cramped room was occupied by desk in an arrangement of four desk per row with five rows. Yes there was only twenty of us children in this class.

I winced inwardly as a paper ball hit the back of my head and I heard someone behind me giggle. I looked to Mrs. Morrison momentarily forgetting that she had betrayed me just moments before. She looked at me from her desk then looked down. Mrs. Morrison didn't say anything as oppsed to when she used to stand up for me. My vision blurred with unshed tears and my eyes stung.

_WHAT ELSE DID I EXPECT? _My thoughts echoed inside my head. I didn't know the answer.

The rest of thae day went as usual changing classes was - as usual - brutal. Everywhere other kids bumped into shoving me aside on purpose. When I tried to enter my combination into the lock my hands or me were pushed as to where I'd mess up and have to start all over again.

Classes were always the worst part of the day. I was pummeled with paperballs, hornets, and rubberbands. When dissmissal finally rolled around, I was overjoyed. I was glad that I had to walk a mile to get home, because that helped me clear my mind enough to face Mama without letting on how bad it was. Mama had enough to worry about with three kids. We all had it bad at school.

There was Maryella, my seven year old sister who didn't really enjoy the company of others she didn't love; so at school she was solitary and the kids were mean to her.

There was William, my nine year old brother who was too smart for his own good. He was always trying to tell people the right way to say things, although he knew they couldn't help it because they had a realy southern accent.

Then there was me. Isabella. I was the kind of girl who didn't mind the dark or even blood and gore. I was the 'Goth Girl'.

Neither Maryella nor William spoke the whole way home and it worried me. Both of their eyes were puffy with tears both shead and unshead. I felt remorse for the torment I knew they must have indured, but to baby them would only make it worse. As I began to lose myself in my thoughts we were home.

I stared up at the small three- roomed house. Our house was made of all wood; brick was too expensive. It was completely covered on the left side by Honey Suckle, which sent a sickly sweet aroma through the air. The house looked abandoned, and were badly in need of money. I tried to walk up the steps and a loose nail caught the edge of my hand sown black dress. You couldn't tell it was handsown until it started to unravel, and this one was so worn I paid no attention to the new entry to themany holes on the dress's hem. I sighed before walking into the front door. Something seemed wrong. A strange feeling. Maryella entered first, then her scream echoed through my head as the screen door swung shut.

"Maryella! Maryella?!" I yelled running forward bumping past William who had frozen in the door way. His face was pale and he was covered in a cold sweat. His eyes were frozen in terror at the sight in front of us.

"Oh my god!" My hands automatically flew to my mouth in horror as I stared at the terrible sight. A small sob escaped me and me knees wobbled. Maryella screamed again.

"No. . . No!. . .No! No! No! No! It can't be. . . MaMa!!" It was my turn to scream, and as the words escaped from my throught I was crying sobbing and oh so terrified.


	2. What now?

CHAPTER ONE:

" If their was ever a happy place, it should still exist and I'll find it. If ever there was a happy ending, it should still exist and I'll find it. I will chase the good and not look towards the bad for that would shurely harm me." I read, looking down towards the notebook paper instead of at the class. A lot of the other children coughed or fiddled, but I wasn't paying any attention to them. I wanted to hear what thought.

" Well Isabella . . . . It was definutely cretive, but I'm not sure I understand the plot of the poem. Do you understand it?" This woman was in her mid forties with short dirty - blonde hair and a round chubby face. She wasn't skinny but she wasn't huge either. I slowly nodded my head in reply.

Some of the kids snickered. A few others whispered, then giggled. When I didn't say anything Mrs. Morrison smiled; as if to say hurry up and explain.

" It means that throughout my life I will try to only go for the good and either ignore or avoid the bad. I will do this in order to form a better life for myself and hopefully the people around me. If I should slip though or chase the bad instead of the good there's a better chance that I'll get hurt instead of not." I concluded. Mrs. Morrison just sstared at me. More of the kids giggled, a few were just outright laughing. Mrs. Morrison looked as if she too wanted to laugh. She was smiling in a way that went along with the kid's teasing.

" You got all of that from that poem?"Mrs. Morrison inquired as if talking to a retarted kid, like I wouldn't understand her words.

" Yes ma'am." I replied. She giggled then with the other kids. Why did I care what she thought at the beggining of all this, anyway? It's because she _used_ to be the only person who didn't make fun of me. Mrs. Morrison had turned into ine of_ them. _They all did sooner or later.

" Take your seat please." She said still giggling a bit. I returned my line of sight to the floor and walked to my seat in the front of the room. The room was a brick cell with only two windows on the far side of the wall and a ceiling fan so that we wouldn't get too hot. Mrs. Morrison's desk sat to the right at the front of the room and the blackboard hung on the left side of the front wall beside her desk. The rest of the cramped room was occupied by desk in an arrangement of four desk per row with five rows. Yes there was only twenty of us children in this class.

I winced inwardly as a paper ball hit the back of my head and I heard someone behind me giggle. I looked to Mrs. Morrison momentarily forgetting that she had betrayed me just moments before. She looked at me from her desk then looked down. Mrs. Morrison didn't say anything as oppsed to when she used to stand up for me. My vision blurred with unshed tears and my eyes stung.

_WHAT ELSE DID I EXPECT? _My thoughts echoed inside my head. I didn't know the answer.

The rest of thae day went as usual changing classes was - as usual - brutal. Everywhere other kids bumped into shoving me aside on purpose. When I tried to enter my combination into the lock my hands or me were pushed as to where I'd mess up and have to start all over again.

Classes were always the worst part of the day. I was pummeled with paperballs, hornets, and rubberbands. When dissmissal finally rolled around, I was overjoyed. I was glad that I had to walk a mile to get home, because that helped me clear my mind enough to face Mama without letting on how bad it was. Mama had enough to worry about with three kids. We all had it bad at school.

There was Maryella, my seven year old sister who didn't really enjoy the company of others she didn't love; so at school she was solitary and the kids were mean to her.

There was William, my nine year old brother who was too smart for his own good. He was always trying to tell people the right way to say things, although he knew they couldn't help it because they had a realy southern accent.

Then there was me. Isabella. I was the kind of girl who didn't mind the dark or even blood and gore. I was the 'Goth Girl'.

Neither Maryella nor William spoke the whole way home and it worried me. Both of their eyes were puffy with tears both shead and unshead. I felt remorse for the torment I knew they must have indured, but to baby them would only make it worse. As I began to lose myself in my thoughts we were home.

I stared up at the small three- roomed house. Our house was made of all wood; brick was too expensive. It was completely covered on the left side by Honey Suckle, which sent a sickly sweet aroma through the air. The house looked abandoned, and were badly in need of money. I tried to walk up the steps and a loose nail caught the edge of my hand sown black dress. You couldn't tell it was handsown until it started to unravel, and this one was so worn I paid no attention to the new entry to themany holes on the dress's hem. I sighed before walking into the front door. Something seemed wrong. A strange feeling. Maryella entered first, then her scream echoed through my head as the screen door swung shut.

"Maryella! Maryella?!" I yelled running forward bumping past William who had frozen in the door way. His face was pale and he was covered in a cold sweat. His eyes were frozen in terror at the sight in front of us.

"Oh my god!" My hands automatically flew to my mouth in horror as I stared at the terrible sight. A small sob escaped me and me knees wobbled. Maryella screamed again.

"No. . . No!. . .No! No! No! No! It can't be. . . MaMa!!" It was my turn to scream, and as the words escaped from my throught I was crying sobbing and oh so terrified.


End file.
